July 6th. I am going mad.  Again all the contents of my water bottle have been drunk during the night—­or rather, I have drunk it!

But is it I?  Is it I?  Who could it be?  Who?  Oh!  God!  Am I going mad?  Who will save me?

July 10th. I have just been through some surprising ordeals.  Decidedly I am mad!  And yet!—­

On July 6th, before going to bed, I put some wine, milk, water, bread and strawberries on my table.  Somebody drank—­I drank—­all the water and a little of the milk, but neither the wine, bread nor the strawberries were touched.

On the seventh of July I renewed the same experiment, with the same results, and on July 8th, I left out the water and the milk and nothing was touched.

Lastly, on July 9th I put only water and milk on my table, taking care to wrap up the bottles in white muslin and to tie down the stoppers.  Then I rubbed my lips, my beard and my hands with pencil lead, and went to bed.

Irresistible sleep seized me, which was soon followed by a terrible awakening.  I had not moved, and my sheets were not marked.  I rushed to the table.  The muslin round the bottles remained intact; I undid the string, trembling with fear.  All the water had been drunk, and so had the milk!  Ah!  Great God!—­

I must start for Paris immediately.

July 12th. Paris.  I must have lost my head during the last few days!  I must be the plaything of my enervated imagination, unless I am really a somnambulist, or that I have been brought under the power of one of those influences which have been proved to exist, but which have hitherto been inexplicable, which are called suggestions.  In any case, my mental state bordered on madness, and twenty-four hours of Paris sufficed to restore me to my equilibrium.

Yesterday after doing some business and paying some visits which instilled fresh and invigorating mental air into me, I wound up my evening at the Theatre Francais.  A play by Alexandre Dumas the Younger was being acted, and his active and powerful mind completed my cure.  Certainly solitude is dangerous for active minds.  We require men who can think and can talk, around us.  When we are alone for a long time we people space with phantoms.

I returned along the boulevards to my hotel in excellent spirits.  Amid the jostling of the crowd I thought, not without irony, of my terrors and surmises of the previous week, because I believed, yes, I believed, that an invisible being lived beneath my roof.  How weak our head is, and how quickly it is terrified and goes astray, as soon, as we are struck by a small, incomprehensible fact.

Instead of concluding with these simple words:  “I do not understand because the cause escapes me,” we immediately imagine terrible mysteries and supernatural powers.